Scent of Roses by Kat Martin Page A

the rooms along the way, until he came to C-14 in the west wing. He recognized the woman walking out of a room just a few doors down and paused there in the hall.
    â€œHello, Liz.”
    She looked up at the sound of her name, came to an abrupt stop in front of him.
    â€œZachary…” She looked back over her shoulder. “You’re here to see your father?”
    He nodded. “I come by whenever I’m in town. What about you?”
    â€œI’m doing a teaching series for the nursing staff.”
    â€œSubject?”
    â€œGeriatric Psychology. Basically, it involves teaching techniques to deal with the elderly.”
    â€œSounds useful.”
    â€œEvery little bit helps.” She turned toward the open door. “I knew your father was in here. I hope he’s doing all right.”
    â€œHis condition stays pretty much the same. His legs don’t work quite right. There’s some kind of problem getting signals from the brain. He doesn’t talk much. When he does, he remembers bits and pieces from the past, which he gets mixed up with the present. Nothing about the accident or much about things that have happened since then.”
    â€œI heard about the accident when it happened. He took a fall down the stairs, right? My dad was still alive back then and my sister still lived here. She and her husband moved to San Francisco in March.”
    â€œTracy, isn’t it?”
    She nodded. “Tracy’s a couple years younger.” She looked past him through the doorway to the form on the bed, lying beneath the sheets. “Such a terrible waste. Your father always seemed such a vital man.”
    â€œHe could be a real bastard at times. But mostly he was good to me. I owe him a lot. More than I could ever repay.”
    â€œIs there…is there any chance he’ll get better?”
    He looked at the man on the bed. “The doctors still hold out hope for him. They say technology is always improving. They say there’s work being done that might allow them to operate, remove the bits of bone that are pressing into his brain. I keep hoping. All of us do.”
    Liz looked at him, studying him as if he were a specimen under a glass. “You’re a surprising man, Zach. You’re here to see your father. Sam says you founded Teen Vision. You’ve conquered your drug and alcohol problems and you’re a successful lawyer. You’re also rude and overbearing and irritating as hell. I can’t seem to figure you out.”
    Zach grinned. “It’s encouraging to know you’re trying. Why don’t we go out to dinner and you can have another go at it?”
    â€œI told you—”
    â€œYeah, I know. You’re busy.”
    For a moment, she glanced away. “Look, I’d better get going. I’ve got a lot to do back at my office.” She turned and started walking.
    â€œLiz?”
    She stopped, slowly turned to face him.
    â€œIf you won’t go to out dinner with me, how about lunch?”
    She didn’t answer for so long his palms began to sweat. Jesus. The last time a woman did that to him he was in high school.
    â€œWhen?” she asked and his heart kicked up just like it used to back then.
    â€œHow about today? It’s already eleven o’clock. You’ve got to eat and so do I. We can meet at noon, after I’ve had a little time to spend with my father.”
    â€œAll right, but if you say Marge’s, the deal is off.”
    He laughed. “I was thinking The Ranch House. They’ve got a pretty decent lunch menu.”
    â€œFine. I’ll meet you at The Ranch House at one.” She started walking again.
    â€œOne is fine. One is great. I’ll see you there.” Zach watched her turn the corner and disappear out of sight. She looked different today, all business in a simple coral suit with a plain white, open-collared blouse.
    He dried his damp palms on his slacks, his heartbeat